This Sunday is World AIDS Day, when we remember and celebrate the lives of those we have lost, and those who continue to be affected by a yet-incurable disease. It is again time to be grateful for those who bravely fought for awareness and change, many of whom are no longer with us.
This anniversary always coincides with the Broadway Cares/Equity Fights AIDS annual Red Bucket collections, which are under way at theatres across the US. Since beginning on Broadway in 1988, the campaigns have raised millions of dollars for a variety of health organisations and programmes.
I have recently been rehearsing in New York and found myself imagining what Broadway would have become had so many of its talented, visionary and groundbreaking artists and creatives not succumbed to the virus during the 1980s. That decade is often described as being the golden age of the British musical – it was certainly the era when British-made musicals, mostly by one British and two French musical writers, dominated stages in the West End, Broadway and around the world; a moment when Britain stole the long-held musical crown from the US.
However, a better description for the time might be that it was the golden age of globally franchised British musical blockbusters. It cannot be compared to Broadway’s golden age between 1943 and 1959, a time that birthed groundbreaking works from a multitude of new musical writers who would go on to define the industry. However, that still does not stop the use of terms such as ‘British invasion’ being applied to this era, with recollections of when ‘the British conquered Broadway’.
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The success of British musicals on Broadway at this time was arguably a result of circumstances that were devastating American theatre as much as it was about the musicals themselves. Don’t get me wrong: the UK produced some great musicals in the 1980s, but as fortunes rolled in from dancing cats, roller-skating trains, student uprisings, falling chandeliers and a helicopter, AIDS was decimating Broadway’s workforce.
Few industries in the US suffered more fatalities from AIDS-related diseases in the 1980s than theatre. Lyricist Howard Ashman and director-choreographer Michael Bennett were just two of the high-profile Broadway figures who died, alongside many young chorus actors, directors, choreographers, backstage workers and producers who would have played a significant part in the future of American theatre.
Globally, ignorance and misinformation surrounded the disease, spawning public fear and contempt that was frequently directed towards the gay community. On Broadway, a tsunami of sickness was causing a dramatic change to the creative landscape and infrastructure. Artists and theatre workers would attend shows and rehearsals one day, then be absent from sickness the next and never return.
It is a situation those who did not live through the AIDS pandemic may find hard to comprehend. It is why the stories and experiences of those who were there are important and need to be told – and retold – together with the remarkable acts of kindness, bravery and community that happened against this backdrop of suffering.
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The height of the epidemic on Broadway could be represented as the 13-year period between the premiere of Jerry Herman’s 1983 comedy-musical La Cage aux Folles, the first openly gay musical, and the Broadway premiere of Jonathan Larson’s 1996 musical Rent, which told the story of a community living through the rise of AIDS in New York’s Alphabet City. The premieres of these two musicals were arguably the most important productions of their respective decades.
The arrival of Herman’s musical initially sparked derision and, to some, its style seemed a throwback to an earlier era in comparison with the hi-tech sets that were playing down the street. But Herman, a composer who came to prominence at the end of Broadway’s golden age, understood the power of the musical and how, as a popular and far-reaching art form, it can cleverly address complex issues that could help to propel social change.
Audiences at La Cage aux Folles invested in the story, liked and – crucially – cared about what happened to the characters. Many of these mainstream audiences were now seeing gay people as human beings; finding empathy for what was happening in different communities affected by the disease – a feeling that may not have existed among some theatregoers before they took their seats.
In contrast, the production’s transfer to the West End in 1986 was short-lived. Were prejudices and fears of the virus greater in the UK, or were mainstream audiences simply more caught up with the spectacle of the next 1980s blockbuster to properly listen?
Broadway truly found its voice again with Rent. By the time Larson’s musical opened there in 1996, attitudes had certainly shifted; a new generation of artists, creatives and audiences were breaking through – despite prejudice always lurking in the shadows. In an interview for the New York Times, Larson explained the underlying importance of his musical, referencing the words that a friend of his dying of AIDS-related diseases had said to him: “‘It’s not how many years you live, but how you fulfil the time you spend here.’ That’s sort of the point of the show.”
Sometimes, musicals face questions over the need for their very existence. With La Cage aux Folles and Rent, the point is emphatically made as to why the art form matters. The lights of these two shows became vital beacons of hope for communities and the theatre industry during dark and difficult times. A void had been created from the devastation and loss Broadway experienced – its subsequent recovery was not just about the shows themselves, but also the recovery of its community. A different pandemic has recently reminded us of this fragility and how, in these continuing challenging times, the struggle continues.
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